The FACE Family Dilemma
by NightenGale10
Summary: Tensions rise between America, France, and Canada as they fight for England's attention, and strive to be his favorite. USUK FrUK CanUK
1. Chapter 1

"England, mon chèri! It is so nice to see your… ummm… well your lovely-…no…um your…help me out here America, your…"

"Your idiosyncratic features" The American interceded.

"Oui! A perfect word for a less then perfect face. Oh England it surprised me when you called and invited us over. I haven't been to this murky and damp hell-hole in ages!" Francis sighed as he looked over at the atrocious curtains.

England sighed and rubbed his temple. " I think what's even more surprising is America's correct use of the word idiosyncratic. Were the hell did you learn that?"

Alfred looked over from the couch that he had thrown himself on upon arrival at Arthur's house. "Oh, that. I was playing a game of truth or dare with some of the states… one thing lead to the other and Delaware started hitting Hawaii over the head with his raccoon hat yelling ' your idiosyncrasies are the reason why you weren't a state until '59'. I wanted to make sure Delaware wasn't cursing at a small chibi, so I looked it up. Did you guys know that google doesn't just search the web, but it has a dictionary and translator too?"

England rolled his eyes before turning to the Frenchman. " I thought you chaps decided to come tomorrow because you had a dinner date with Spain and America was going to a Ariana Grand concert."

America looked up at Brit from the small television he had turned on. "First off, it's Ariana Grande. Second, I lost all respect for her when she licked that donut. No way to treat such a powdery pastry filled with fluffy goodness." Alfred looked down at his hands while fighting off tears.

"Oui" France shook his head while sauntering over to the window to inspect the unfashionable curtains some more. "I decided Spain and I need to stop fooling around together if he ever wants that rude little Italian to fall for him. It was in his best interests that I cancelled and came here." France explained. He decided that he had looked at the gross drapes for far to long now and decided to find a new article of clothing he could examine. Francis scanned the room until his eyes fell upon England's barf green uniform. Ah, an area that always needs improvement. France took a closer look at the out of season cufflinks his ally sported. Ughhh, seriously, doesn't he care anything about his appearance? The Frenchman looked for another area to scrutinize but his eyes caught a glimmer of silver located near Arthur's hands. Ohh, shiny.

"What is in your sweaty hairy palms that could admit such a sparkle, black sheep?" France asked smugly as he walked back to England. Arthur opened up his hand to reveal a key chain.

"Oh bullocks! I completely forgot! I was going to pick up Canada just before you and America arrived. Ah, I must be incredibly late by now. I hope he can forgive me!" England hurried out his front door leaving the Frenchmen and American inside.

"Wait, who?" America looked confusingly at the older country. " Is that another one of England's imaginary friends? Canada and the floating cherry rabbit?"

"The name does sound awfully familiar. Perhaps I have visited there before? Hmm, Canada sounds American Indian to me…" Francis wondered aloud.

America gasped loudly before scolding the other nation. " The term is Native American! Don't insult the beautiful race and culture with your ignorant vocabulary!"

"Oh you Americans are so quick to chastise others for being politically correct when yourselves cannot distinguish Russian from Norwegian."

"Hey, I know the difference! 'I'm gonna beat you up' in Russian is 'kolkolkol', and in Norwegian is 'Denmark!'."

"Uh stupid American!"

"weird snail eater!"

The front door then swung open revealing a Englishmen and a Canadian. America and France both stood up and walked over to the door were England was talking to Matthew.

"I'm am truly happy you could come, I haven't seen you in such a long time, but you have changed so much! Your hair is longer and you've grown quite a few inches. How have the last few years treated you?"

" Well they've been alright, I guess. Our hockey team won the last Olympic Games, that was nice!" Matthew softly spoke.

"Mattie" Canada was soon surrounded by Alfred's embrace and the strong aroma of hamburger grease.

"Oh now I remember of course! Matthew!" Francis joined the hug with a sigh, slowly reaching his arm done guessing which one of the North Americans butts he would have the pleasure of groping.

"Oh stop suffocating him, idiots! And you froggy bastard would do well to not sexually harass him either."

"Oh, Britain. Spoiling all the fun again!" With an exasperated sigh France let go, but not before giving a sneaky pinch to the unsuspecting Canadian's firm ass.

America withdrew as well and spoke to his brother. "So any plans? Of course not! There is this new burger restaurant-"

"um, Ameri-"

"I've been dying to try-"

"Alfred, I-"

"So, it would make sense to go!"

"America, I um, I'm sorry to tell you this but I already, well, have plans." Canada looked down at his feet apologetically so he would have to see the heartbroken American's face.

"Yes, that's right. Canada and I have tickets to see the ballet. It was a sold-out and very popular show. I'm surprised I managed to scrape together two tickets. I'm very sorry blokes, I just didn't know you would be here." Arthur explained to the uninvited nations, the Brit then checked his watch.

"Well, the show starts in 15 minutes so we must depart. Ready Matthew?"

"Y-y-yes, bye Alfie, Francis" Arthur and Matthew opened the front door.

America and France gave murmurs along the lines of 'I don't like the ballet anyways'.

The door closed.

"I love the ballet!"

"Me too! Si volgaire!" Francis agreed. "And of all the people to waste a ticket on. He should have given it to me, I'm his favorite after all." The Frenchmen huffed, looking over to see a pissed off American.

"Hold up! You're the favorite?"

"Oui, oui! Haven't you ever heard the girl scout song about making friends? It clearly states that older friends are gold compared to the silver new friends. Case in point Alfie, I am the gold pocket watch on Arthur's wrist while you are the pathetic, bent-out-of-shape silver ashtray."

"I'm sure England loves having a friend that reminds him of peeing every time you say yes."

"Your silly language is the one that is messed up!"

"And now you are insulting his language! Shall I start writing these discredits down, Francis?"

"I wasn't aware you knew how to write, Alfred?"

"England taught me, right before he taught me how to kiss!"

"Who do you think taught him?"

"You didn't exactly do a good job."

"I know he is a slow learner." France crossed his arms "England was friends with me first and he will spend more time with me!"

"well" America snarled. " England chose to be friends with me, he was stuck with you! He will want to spend more time with me!"

Both the Frenchmen and the American turned on their heels and stomped away from each other.

"It is on like Donkey Kong, France!" America shouted in the distance.

Hi everyone, thank you so much for reading! The idea for this fanfic wasn't mine it was redeyesofhell's idea, but the writing is all mine. I don't own any of the characters or Hetalia. I hope everyone enjoyed it! I'll try to update as soon as possible! ^J^


	2. Chapter 2

"Well that was a wonderful show, England. Thank you so much for inviting me to see it with you?" Canada thanked Arthur as they walked up the steps to the Brit's Tudor style cottage. As the pair opened the door their noses were filled with an array of various different delicious smells.

"France? America? Where is that smell coming fro-"England started before being cut off by a overly-enthusiastic Frenchmen.

"Oh, Britain! I didn't know if you were going to be eating out after the ballet or coming home and preparing some of your *cough*disgusting*cough* - oh my, I mean your uh, delectable food for us, but I took the opportunity to thank you for inviting us to your, umm, cozy home by taking the load of making supper off your toned and broad shoulders and making some mouthwatering French cuisine for you, mon ami!" France answered him excitedly while guiding him towards the dining room where numerous plates were laid out in an elaborate pattern. Vanilla scented candles were lit and pure white table clothes were starched. It was a dinner fit for a King.

"I made sure to hold the escargot, knowing it made you English speakers a bit skittish." Francis smiled a dazzling white smile at the two other nations who were staring wide-eyed at the many different plated of appetizing foreign meals before them. England looked at each of the platters, wiping drool off of the corner of his mouth. Crème brûlée, bûche de Noël, crepes, the options were endless. There must have been fifty plates he had never seen before in his life, much less be able to name.

"Now," France started again, "Would you like to see a menu and learn about the dishes individuality, or just dig right in?" He grinned, knowing the answer already.

"Oh well, sorry, and not to be rude or disrespectful or anything France, you know I love French food as much as the next guy, but…you see England and I already ate, and we are quite stuffed." Canada murmured, slightly annoyed at not being able to discuss the ballet further with Arthur since the interruption.

France chuckled again, "Oh, silly little boy. I know England very well to know he's always hungry for Frenchmen, oh, I mean French food. Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh. And anyways, this meal wasn't meant for you at all, only my jolly old friend Artie. Not that you look your age at all Britain, have you been working out?"

Canada started to speak again, now more than just a little ticked off. "But, England, I thought we were going to talk more about the show, eh?" Arthur, now a zombified servant of the scrumptious smells didn't hear the Canadian speak at all, he was too busy sitting down at the table and digging in to the nearest dish that looked the most like pudding.

"Oh, I see how it is now…" Canada whispered, dark blue eyes watering, "I guess I'll just…go" Matthew took off toward the grand staircase overcome with so much grief from being ignored and feeling betrayed by the English and French men in the dining room.

"Bye Felicia, oh-hoh-hoh-hoh" Francis' cackle echoed through the large house as the Canadian flew up the stair hands covering his face, which was now producing a steady stream of salty tears.

When forgotten nation reached the upstairs' hallway, he bumped into a large object. The impact caused the light country to fall backwards. This just was not Canada's day, well, no day is really Canada's day, but this one is considerably worse than others.

"Oh, sorry Mattie…" Matthew looked up to see his brother, who must have been the large object he had catapulted into. Canada looked relieved to see a friendly face, although his tears were still flowing freely, but America didn't seem to notice them, his mind was preoccupied with another matter.

"So" *eye-twitch* "How was the" *eye-twitch, eye-twitch* "ballet" *eye-twitch*. Alfred struggled to choke out the sentence; his usually cheery-self seemed uncharacteristically irked.

"It was great, but are you, well, feeling okay Alfie?" Canada asked with genuine sympathy.

"Well, you see, "bro", if that's even what you are to me anymore, it's kinda hard to act like everything is Candyland when your brother is an attention hog, who doesn't care who he steps on to get time with England."

"Is that what you think happened earliar?" Oh no, the tears were starting again." I never meant for you to feel that way America, I'm sure if it had been up to me or England you both would have come along too, but there just weren't enough tickets…"

"You never thought to stay home with Francis and me, have fun together as a family." America was yelling louder and louder.

"We didn't mean to-" Canada was getting squeakier and squeakier.

"Just shut up Matt! It's not like anyone wants to hear a weak comeback from a nobody! Arthur probably wanted to spend time with you cause he felt pity, pity for the only nation worth nothing. Sealand should have more power than you!"

Canada couldn't take it anymore. All of the yelling was just too much for him. Was this really what everyone thought about him a worthless country with nothing meaningful to say or contribute? Was he no better than Sealand? The insults of both his brother and France kept dinging and darting around his head like a pinball. He stumbled into the guest room that he was assigned to upon his arrival and tried to find the soft comforting bed that would soothe him. Whatever game America and France were playing, he didn't want to play. If England was so gullible to spend time with the person who does the most for him then why did Canada need his attention anyways? Well, Matthew himself could answer you that. England had this way of making anyone he talks to feel special, wanted, loved. He'd be well qualified to be a therapist. When Canada spent time with him, he quickly forgot all those years of bad-cooking and imprisonment Britain had put his and America's people through. Canada could only see a man capable of generosity and consolation, never of greed or cruelty.

Canada was really bad at convincing himself to do the right thing.

Right there and then, Canada decided that England was _his_ friend. England took _him_ to that ballet. England would spend time with _him._ And the Northern Country new just how to do it. He swung his legs over the side of the queen size bed and slipped off his glasses. Standing up, he dropped his precious Quebec on the sanded hard-wood floor. Saying a silent prayer he lifted up a polished boot whispered "I'm so sorry" and brought the shoe down on the province.

 **Hello guys! Thank you so much for everyone who followed this story, it means a lot to me and I'm glad you liked it! I'm so sorry to any Canada fans who just saw the poor guy get bullied then become murderous…I promise I'll think of a happy ending. Anyways, please reply! Byeeeee ^J^(I'm obsessed with this Russia face… ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

"Ugghhh…" England sighed as he heard the familiar ringing of his alarm sounding. He rolled over to the other side of the bed to turn it off, seeing the time, 7:30. He sat up in bed scanning the room for any of his friends, who were usually awake up to two hours before he even stirred, but the Englishmen saw none of the magical creatures. _Hmm,_ he thought to himself, _they must be downstairs eating breakfast._ The thought of more food made Arthur's stomach ache. He was still stuffed from the feast that France had laid out before him the night before. He hadn't thought it was weird at the time for his rival to treat him to such generosity; fore he was too occupied stuffing his face with the soufflé. But upon more contemplation he did sense a certain unusual aspect of the Frenchmen's lavishness. Britain had also noticed an odd sense of respect from America when he had said goodnight to him yesterday. However, these thoughts were quickly blown away when he heard the banging of pots down in the kitchen. _I hope Flying Mint Bunny didn't decide to make another gingerbread man today. I can't chase another cookie with a full belly like this!_

England trotted downstairs hearing another stream of crashes. He was getting more and more worried about the exploits of the ambitious flying rabbit. Turning the corner to enter the kitchen, Arthur braced himself for the worst.

"Oh! Hey British dude! I thought I'd do something that would relax you, since Canada and France stressed you out last night! Doesn't it sound righteous?"

Arthur rubbed his temples in circular motions as he took in the situation before him. There was Alfred, the nation he had raised, standing behind what looked like Busby's chair. In front of the chair was a large basin containing steaming water and a copious amount of bubbles. On a coffee table nearby there was a metal kettle of newly brewed tea. From what England could smell, it was raspberry, one of his favorites. Also on the coffee table was a cup of honey, another cup of cream, and a small vessel of cane sugar.

"Looks soothing, right? Come over here loosen up. I found this chair in your workshop, seems like you'd been working on. I realized you had probs worked all week on it and never rested on the nice cushion. Only seems fair for you try Artie. Take a load off!" The smile on America's face widened.

"America, you do know that's Busby's chair, correct?" England asked the American kindly, not wanting to hurt his feelings in return for the nice gesture.

"So…"

"Alfred, if I sit on the chair I will explode into millions of pieces."

"I can see how that might be a problem."

America blushed for a split second, his smile never faltering, before quickly using his strength to switch out the cursed chair for a soft recliner, taken from the living room. He guided the older country into the newly fetched chair.

England gladly stepped forward, enjoying his new treatment from the American that didn't involve insulting his food or proclaiming he was crazy. It was a nice change of pace for the Brit, he could get used to it. But before Arthur could sit down on the cushioned seat, he was disrupted by a faint cry.

"What the bloody hell was that?" England stood up straight again, now curious about the sob.

"Oh, it must have been in your imagination!" America said worriedly, now forcibly pushing on the Englishmen's shoulders to get him to sit down again. "Wouldn't you rather not go all Sherlock Holmes on me? Just sit down and relax, enjoy my amazing and benevolent charity, towards you, a tired soul! Come on man! Did I read the dictionary for nothing last night?" America, though strong, could not contain Arthur as he walked over to the staircase, where the crying seemed to be coming from.

"England?" A soft voice cried from upstairs. A melancholy Canadian was sitting at the top of the stairs arms around his knees. He looked as though he had been crying for a while, his cheeks blotchy and raw. At the sight of Arthur, the young nation stood up and made his way down the steps, walking as if in pain.

"Oh Matthew! What ever happened chap?" A worried Britain opened his arms, inviting the boy to a warm hug, which Canada did not turn down. Alfred stood there in shock, _I was so close!_

After the long and comforting hug, Canada seemed to calm down a little, raising his palms up to the oldest country. In his palms sat a battered and twisted pair of glasses. Both England and America involuntarily gasped at the sight. _Well, I did_ _not_ _see_ _that_ _coming from_ _him._ America crossed his arms; he didn't expect his brother to be this convincing of an actor. England took the broken glasses in shaking hands. "Canada, however did this happen?"

"I *sniff* was w-washing my hands *sniff* then suddenly I *sniff, sniff* well, my m-my glasses slipped of my nose, and I-I tried to find them on *sniff*, on the t-the floor by I j-just ended up, I ended up-" With that, Canada dived into another fit of sobs, shaking violently in England's arms. America rolled his eyes.

"It's all going to be alright, Matt, don't worry. We'll go to the eye glass store in just a minute, just let me go to the bathroom, I'll be right back." England rubbed the sobbing nation's back tenderly before starting to head down another hall towards the bathrooms.

"Wait, Artie! What about the time we were gonna spend together, I made tea and everything." America put on his best puppy eyes for the Brit when he turned around.

"America," England looked disappointedly at the free nation before gesturing towards the crying one. "Look at the state your brother is in. I think his needs are ranked a little higher than yours." With that Britain turned on his heel and went into the bathroom.

"Way to milk it, Matty. I didn't know you would stoop so low as to ruin Quebec." America whispered harshly to Canada who had ceased to cry."

"My grandmother taught me the true spirit of the maple leaf. When I play, I play hard." Canada raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Also, a spa treatment, really Alfred? How childish." The northern country regained his pathetic crying when the Englishmen exited the bathroom.

"We'll be gone for a couple hours Alfred."

"How long does it take to get new glasses? It's not like Matt's eye condition is rare. He is just near-sighted for Christ's sake!"

"Yes, but we may get ice cream to cheer him up on the way there." England and Canada left the house, but not before Canada turned his head around towards and stuck out his tongue at Alfred. The front door slammed shut.

"Jerk"

"You're just upset because you didn't think of that idea." said France, who had come up from behind America, sending the latter nation ten feet in the air from fright.

"Geez, I thought you were slender man." The Frenchman scoffed, as the American continued, "Anyways, I would never do something so destructive to Texas. I'm not completely heartless, like that demon you took my brother's body hostage."

"Hmm, want to make out, to you know, console each other? Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh."

"No way! You're still dead to me!"

 **Wassup Guys! Thank you to all who have read, followed, replied, and favorited this story! I hope you liked this chapter. I'm thinking that this story will probably be from 6-10 chapters when it's finished. All replies are welcome, I'm open to any constructive criticism you got for me! I know some of the characters are OOC, especially Canada, but hey, England does that to people. If you have any requests I'll gladly try to work them into this story! Thank you so much!**


	4. Chapter 4

England and Canada walked side-by side together, away from the Lenscrafters' Store. Canada had chosen bronze colored wire frames, they went well with his blonde locks, and brought out the vivid color in his navy eyes. After purchasing the eyewear, and thanking the Brit profusely, the two nations hopped in Arthur's car and started back towards his home in his capital, London.

"I really can't thank you enough England! I'm just so glad to get Quebec back!" the young happy nation smiled brightly at the driving Englishmen.

"Oh it's no problem at all, Matthew. You know I'd do it all again in a heartbeat." Arthur beamed back at Canada, who was admiring his new glasses with a grin that seemed foreign on the timid country's usually calm and sweet face. This struck a nerve with Britain who was once again catching one of his fellow allies acting unlike themselves. He couldn't figure out if he just didn't known them well enough, or if they had changed since he last spent quality time with him. France was acting generous, America valued his company, and he often caught Canada with sly, sometimes sinister smiles. Arthur just couldn't comprehend it.

"Canada, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"And what about France and America"

"Yes, why?"

"How are all of you getting along together?"

England easily caught Canada's obvious hesitation.

"We are perfectly fine" The Canadian said this through clenched teeth. He had never known the northern nation to have a hot temper, especially not when talking about feelings. It was much more likely that the young country burst out sobbing again then for him to get visibly agitated. The pair rode in silence the rest of the way home. In his head, England was contemplating whether he should touch down on the subject again, but he figured it would probably end in the same fashion, only worse.

Canada and England entered the house once more. England decided to go down to his study/lair/pirate headquarters/meeting place for the Brits-against-Frogs club/bakery/ball-pit, don't ask about the ball-pit, it was only used to keep Sealand at bay when he visited.

Britain headed straight for the lair section of his basement. He grabbed a tarp for nearby and hurriedly laid it over his magic summoning circle to insure no visits from Russia, if his time in the magical sanctuary resulted in a spell that didn't go as planned.

The Englishmen picked up an ancient spell book, eyes resting on the crimson dragon on the cover for a moment. This spell book had been given to him by his brother, Wales on Halloween a couple centuries ago, it had quickly become his favorite over the years, it had a charm, potion, or spell for basically any problem, and for the most part pretty good results.

Flicking through the tattered papers to find the right page only took a matter of minutes.

 _'_ _Chapter IV_

 _Humans Being Humans_

 _Art thou friends snobbish, greedy, arrogant, or rude?_

 _This potion will ensure the creation of the perfect the perfect mate upon consumption…'_

England smiled, eyes glossing over the recipe. He walked over to the ingredient shelf, grabbing the few necessary jars that were needed to make the potion. Billywig Sting, Haliwinkles, and Leech juice, perfect, he had all of them. Mixing the correct amounts of each substance into a small glass bowl, England then filled an eye dropper with the mixture, which smelled faintly of the scones that Arthur had made just a few nights before, mmm, delicious.

While walking up the stairs to enter the main floor, the Englishmen slipped the eye dropper into his coat pocket. Exiting the basement into the hallway, the Brit heard the American yell from the kitchen.

"England, can you come to the kitchen. I have something for you." _Hmm, well, America's certainly growing up to be a pretty nice chap. Giving me gifts and all, what a generous bloke_. As Arthur turned the corner into the kitchen he saw all three of his houseguests somewhere in the room. Alfred had his back to him, he looked as the he was holding a large pot or pan. France and Canada were sitting at the table, glaring at each other menacingly with both their arms crossed. Upon the Brit's entering, France plastered a dazzling smile on his face and walked over to him.

"Bonjour, my favorite Englishmen! I must say, it was very kind of you to take Canada to the eyeglass store, but between that outing and the ballet, I'm feeling quite, um, how you say, ignored." While talking, France began to rub England's back, as he continued his hands slowly worked their ways around England waist and on to his chest.

"Ugghh," England grabbed France's hand and shoved them away from him.

"Hah, epic fail, dude!" America laughed at the Frenchmen's failed attempt at seducing the former pirate. England took a closer look at what America was holding, it was a long pan filled with chocolate chip cookies.

"I decided to say sorry to by way of making food, since your scones are so, well, British. So I made cookies!" America grinned at Britain.

"Biscuits"

"What?"

"You mean biscuits, that's what their called"

Alfred sucked in air to prevent himself on ranting to Arthur on exactly why cookies were obviously called cookies.

"Oh well, whatever you say. The point is I made 20, and ten already have your name on them bro!" _Perfect…_ As America started placing the cookies on plates and pouring glasses of milk, England sat down and reached into his pocket to get the eye dropper. Alfred placed the plates and cups on the table in front of the other three nations, but instead of milk he sat a coffee cup next to his cookies.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

"Oh, It's a Dunkin Donuts Oreo Latte, dude. Don't cha know I run on it?"

England, Canada, and France all rolled eyes in unison before digging into their desserts. Arthur took on of the biscuits from his plate and brought it down, nonchalantly, underneath the table top, so none of the other countries seated could see what he was about to do.

He held the eye-dropper above the cookie and let a few drops of the potion seep into the cookie. He then lifted the cookie up from under the table and turned to Canada.

"Hey Matthew." Canada looked up from chowing down on the one cookies that America had given him.

"Yes?"

"I noticed you only had one cookie, would you like one of mine, I have no idea how I could ever eat all of these myself."

"Oh, sure, I guess." Canada reached out to England's hand and grabbed the cookie. He took the whole cookie in his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp. England was amazed at how fast the young nation could eat.

"Achh, Achh, Keh, Keh!" Canada started coughing and cluching his chest.

"My cooking's not that bad," America sneered.

"I'm okay." Canada stopped coughing and looked up at everyone around the table. His lips stretched out across his table in a smile that, although seemingly genuine, could make Belarus flee in fear.

"Would anyone like a back massage?"

 **Hello everyone, thanks for reading! I'm sorry this chapter took longer to update then the other ones so far. Also, I'm going to introduce a new character, but I don't know who yet, It may be Scotland or Cuba, but I would love anybody's ideas for a character other than them to be in the story.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know, I know… The author is a slacker, lazy, ect. ect., I'm soooo sorry! Hopefully I'll make up for the lack of chapters in the future.**

"Hey, uh, Mattie, bro? Ya feeling alright buddy?" Alfred turned his head around to look at the perky Canadian who was giving him quite the back rub. This would have been well-received, if not for the fact that just a few minutes ago said Canadian was glaring at him with an aura that could rival the Ruski's.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Canada smiled sweetly and returned to kneading the American's back with great precision.

"Oh, France, I forgot to ask you about how the Les Miserables opening went. Naturally, it must have been a massive success with your countryman Victor Hugo's elegant character development and design paired with the breathtaking set and fashionable costuming." Matthew, faced his other father figure, awaiting a reply to his sincere compliment.

"Well, of course it was stunning, emotional, and heart wrenching as always, but are you truly sure you're feeling well, belle?" The Frenchman now looked rather worried, as he took his finger and placed it under Canada's chin, lifting his face up so France could inspect him. It wasn't usual for the Northern nation to be so kind and innocent, but it seemed rather odd for him to be this talkative.

"Why yes, I do declare, what's got all of you worked up today? I thought we could all just relax and nap it out this week while reacquainting with each other? We haven't seen each other in so long and I just, *sniff, sniff*, I j-j-just." Canada's rant took a downward tailspin as he stopped rubbing America's shoulder and feel to his knees in a sobbing rage.

"I just try SO Hard, and NEVER get ANYTHING from ANY OF YOU! I just CAN'T TAKE it ANYMORE!" The crying nation ran out the front door of Britain's house, slamming the door.

"Care to explain, Britain."

 _Shit,_ The Brit thought to himself.

 **So, really short this chapter, but I promise I'll update really soon, maybe tonight, I really don't know. I've been super busy, what with school revamping again. Anyways, I hope you guys liked it, I'm not really sure if I like(or know) where this story is heading. It would be nice to get some feedback on whether you like it or not, Canada's weirdness at the end will all be explained next chapter, I promise.**


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